


Sundae Afternoon

by BlueThorne



Series: Best of All Possible Worlds [6]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Dadgil Week (Devil May Cry), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Illness, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24952048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueThorne/pseuds/BlueThorne
Summary: Demons don't get "food allergies." Nero, however, is not much of a demon, and Vergil is just starting to come to terms with that.Set pre-Mockingbird, but can be read standalone.
Series: Best of All Possible Worlds [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1207059
Comments: 11
Kudos: 102





	Sundae Afternoon

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know why I remembered the name of the waitress from the anime, but I did. Might be bc she's really cute ngl. 
> 
> My last fic for Dadgil week! This one's for "Discovery" and "Sick/Injured."

Fredi kept an annoying little bell above the door that rang every time someone came in the quiet restaurant. I couldn’t complain too much because it was rare to see much of anyone else in there when I visited around late afternoon - past the lunch crowd but too early for dinner. 

When the bell rang halfway through my first sundae, I didn’t think about it. I didn’t think about until the fourth ring in the span of a few seconds. By that time, I already knew the culprit. “Nero, stop,” my brother’s voice cut in through the bell’s fifth jingle. “You’ll bother people.” 

Spoon still stuck in my mouth, I leaned out from the booth to see Vergil in one of his long winter coats and dusting some snow off a fancy black hat. Nero was buried under a thick scarf, wool cap and mittens, but I could see a pout in his eyes from getting in trouble. He glared down at his shoes until Cindy, the waitress, rolled up on her skates; then he stared wide-eyed at her shoes instead. “Just two?” she asked.

“I’m afraid I’m just looking for that one,” Vergil said with a lazy flick of his hand toward me. “A coffee would be nice, though, if you have it.” 

“Sure thing!” she chirped in the overly-nice way she’d stopped bothering to use with me. “Anything for the little one?”

Vergil glanced down at Nero, who was still awestruck by the rollerskates. “Uh, juice,” Vergil said as he started toward my booth. “Any kind. He likes them all. Come on, Nero.” 

Nero didn’t follow him, still watching the skates as the waitress rolled away. “Nero,” I called, and his head popped up. 

“Uncle Dante!” He raced up to my side of the booth while Vergil took a seat opposite me. “We found you!” Squishing himself to my side, the kid tugged his scarf loose and popped his cap off to reveal a frizzy mess of white hair.

“How did you find me?” I asked. “Also why?”

“I called that broker of yours,” Vergil said. “Unlike you, he actually answers his phone. He said you’d likely be here at this time of day. He had other guesses of venue for later times.” Dull annoyance flattened Vergil’s expression as he placed his hat and gloves in a neat stack on the table. “Here, Mom insisted I bring you this.” He pulled a file folder out from inside the flap of his coat, probably to keep it safe from the snow. The label on the top ridge read “Dante Taxes.”

“Ugh, I don’t want it,” I said. “Aren’t there still months before that anyway?”

“Just get them done, Dante, you absolute-” He bit his tongue and glanced to Nero, but the kid had found one of the laminated menus and was looking over it like it was the best book he’d ever read. 

I didn’t think he could get any more excited until a big glass of orange juice appeared in front of him and blew his tiny kid mind. “This is mine?” he gasped, wrapping his small hands around the glass. 

“Yes, sweetie,” Cindy said with a giggle. “I didn’t know you had family around here, Dante. You should bring them by more often.”

“You’re just saying that because you like them more than me.” 

She flashed me a smirk as she set down Vergil’s coffee. “Well, can you blame me? A cute kid, a well-dressed gentleman...” She shrugged, and Vergil’s shoulders went taut as he realized she was talking about him. 

Nero didn’t seem too bothered, but he might not have noticed he was being talked about at all. “What’s that?” he asked, pressing his finger up against the glass in front of me. 

“That’s Fredi’s famous strawberry sundae,” Cindy rattled off with the usual flare like it was actually famous to anyone but me. “Dante practically lives off them. He’s got quite the sweet tooth.” 

“Straw-babies,” Nero whispered with reverence. “In Fortuna, they was so expensive.”

“Wait, you’ve had strawberries before, right?” I asked. 

Nero shook his head. “No, is it good? I like ice cream.” 

Vergil’s brow pinched as he looked from his coffee to his kid. Part of me wanted to tell him off for somehow keeping Nero from one of the best things in life, but he hadn’t bothered to hide the surprise from his eyes. He had no idea either. 

“Jeez, Kid, you’ve been missing out.” I scooped one of the strawberry halves out of the glass with my spoon, which made Vergil’s nose scrunch up, but it wasn’t like the kid was a stranger to germs. When I held the spoon out for him, Nero put his hand over mine to hold it steady before nabbing the whole piece in his mouth. 

“Ish good!” he said, eyes all lit up like fireworks. Even Vergil didn’t get onto him for talking with food in his mouth. 

“Yeah? You like it? Here.” I slid the half-finished sundae over to Nero, who took it with an almost-squealed thanks. Glancing to my brother, I dared him to say something against it, but his eyes flashed away, and he sipped at his coffee. 

Cindy went back behind the bar counter but kept looking over at Nero with a bright smile. Admittedly, he was fun to watch. With the way he shoveled bites into his mouth between long drinks of orange juice, it almost looked like Vergil didn’t feed the kid. The whipped cream stuck on Nero’s nose was a fun addition to the whole scene.

“Surprised you brought him with you,” I admitted, my voice low as Vergil neared the end of his coffee. 

“He insisted on tagging along when he heard I would be looking for you. He’s always excited to see you, you know. You should go by the house more. I’ll be out next week.” 

“Yeah, I might.” 

By the time Nero dropped the spoon into the empty glass, he was breathing like he’d been out running around the block. Nabbing his glass of orange juice in both hands, he sucked the last of it down through the straw too. 

“You do need to stop to breathe, Kid,” I said. 

“I’d say manners aren’t his strong suit, but you’re still worse,” Vergil muttered. 

When Nero set the empty glass down, he took in a breath that sounded like a hand had closed around his throat. My brother’s confused face mirrored my own as we both looked at him. He blinked back up at me, looking fine, but his breathing was still quick and thin. Even under his puffy jacket, I could watch the way his chest rose and fell. 

Cindy grabbed the bartop, leaning over it. I’d never seen concern on her face before, but it had her eyes darting over every inch of the kid. “Hey, sweetie,” she called. “Are you feeling itchy at all?”

“Itchy?” He tilted his head, seeming to think about it, but he leaned over so far that he fell against me instead. “My tongue is fuzzy.”

Vergil and I were both still stuck watching him like a couple of idiots as his breaths turned to thin, whistling wheezes.

“Dante, I think he has a food allergy,” Cindy said. “I’ll call an ambulance.” 

“A food allergy?” I echoed. My whole body felt empty with shock. “He can do that?”

Panic brought Vergil back to his senses before it could hit me, and he jumped up from his seat to race to Nero's side. After grabbing Nero by the shoulders to hold him upright, Vergil made a sound I’d never heard from him. 

“Uhhh, what do we do!? What do we do, Dante?”

He was shaking, every bit of him. Terror seemed to bleed from his eyes. Nero, meanwhile, was still calm, probably too calm. He reached out like he was moving through water and patted his dad on the head in a way he never would have done if something hadn’t been seriously wrong with him. 

“S’okay,” he slurred like a drunk.

“Cindy’s calling an ambulance,” I said, trying to sound like I was in control despite my heart feeling like it might beat itself into a bloody pulp. “I’m sure once that gets here-”

“What if they’re not fast enough!?” Vergil demanded. “What happens when you have a food allergy? Do you die? Can they fix that!?”

“Well, they can’t fix dying, but-”

“They can’t fix this!?”

“That’s not what I said! I don’t know!”

From the back of the restaurant, I heard, “Hang on, these two are idiots.” Then Cindy yelled over both of us, “He just needs a shot, you morons! What’s wrong with you? You’re going to freak the poor kid out!”

We both went silent, looking at the kid between us. He still seemed fine with everything, even his sad attempts to breathe and the horrible red bumps starting to climb up his neck. I knew the culprit couldn’t have been the orange juice. I’d seen him drink it plenty of times. It wasn’t the ice cream either. That left one option. 

“Strawberries,” I said, guilt tearing a hole through my gut. My limbs felt heavy with dread. “It must have been the strawberries.” 

Vergil breathed out a long, trembling sigh before he spoke. “You didn’t know. I should have.” 

It was strange to hear from Vergil, impossible almost. It didn’t erase any of my guilt. Nothing would have, but at least we shared it. 

Gathering his son up in his arms, Vergil held Nero close in a cradle that Nero never would have allowed had his eyelids not been fluttering. “Stay awake, Nero,” Vergil said. “Help will be here soon, I’m sure.” He held Nero’s forehead pressed against his cheek, and we both listened to him trying to breathe. As painful as it was to listen to, it was all I wanted to hear until the screaming siren of the ambulance was finally close enough to drown it out. 

I saw the way Vergil’s arms tensed when the paramedics took Nero from him. Even knowing they would help, Vergil didn’t want to let go. Demonic power pulsed off of him, his breathing sharp as he forced himself to remain calm. 

They gave Nero the shot but still insisted on taking him to the hospital, and Vergil didn’t argue, even though I’d seen him do it any time an ambulance had been called for one of us. Nero having medical records would no-doubt cause problems later, but he nodded along to anything the paramedics said and hopped in the ambulance to ride with them. 

I wasn’t sure how long I spent staring out the door after they’d left. Cindy’s sigh brought me back to my senses. “I’ve never heard of someone being allergic to a strawberry,” she said. At some point, she’d taken a seat at the barstool near me. Her chin rested in her palm. “Really sorry about that, but I’m sure he’s going to be okay. You want to go meet them at the hospital?”

“Yeah, actually,” I realized. “Do you know which one they’re at?”

“Um… no, afraid not.”

By the time I found the right one, it was nightfall but still within visiting hours. They let me back to the children’s ward with all the round, colorful animals painted on the walls. Nero’s room was bright yellow. He would have hated it, but he was passed out cold with stacks of monitors lit up beside his bed. 

Vergil sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs, his arms crossed and his eyes heavy. “He’s fine,” he said when I walked in. “They just want to keep an eye on him overnight to watch the effects of the drugs they gave him. I think they may have noticed that something was off. If they start getting too interested, I’ll grab him and leave.” 

“Did you give them fake information?” I asked even though I already knew the answer.

“Of course. I have no reason to trust these people.” 

“Well, they are just looking out for the kid.” 

“For now, but there’s no telling if they discover something later.” 

I looked back at the kid to watch the calm, slow rise and fall from his chest. Vergil’s eyes had never left him. “I forget he’s not like us,” I said. Vergil inhaled sharply. 

“He’s… he’s so fragile," Vergil said. "So fragile, and I don’t know how to fix him when something goes wrong." When I looked back at my brother, his eyes were pained. “We always just mended ourselves, whatever it was. I’d never seen so many scrapes and bruises on anyone in the family, and now this. Is he allergic to other things? What do I do if this happens again? What if it happens at the house? We live so far from everything. What if… What if I demon gets past me? One solid bite, one deep scratch - that would be enough.”

“Maybe,” I admitted, “but he’s a smart kid, Verge. He’s made it this far, and you’re not the only one looking out for him.” I didn’t want to tell him what a relief it was to see him so worried, to see, at least in some way, he did think about the kid’s wellbeing. 

Our talking must have roused the kid because I heard a drowsy slur of “Uncle Dante,” still trying to be as chipper as before. 

“Hey, Kid.” I grabbed Vergil by his collar, dragging him along as I walked over to the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy. This room’s ugly. M’cold.” 

“Oh, your coat-” Vergil started to say, but I didn't let go of him.

“Vergil, take off your coat.” 

“What?”

“He can use it as a blanket.” 

He blinked at me for another second before undoing all the buttons and holding it out to me. I shoved him closer to the kid instead, and he finally got the picture. With some awkward hesitation, he draped it over Nero with a mumbled, “I hope that helps.”

Nero hummed, contented or exhausted, as his eyes slid closed. Like he was reaching out toward a wild animal that might snap at any moment, Vergil placed his fingertips to Nero’s forehead and brushed the bangs out of the kid’s face. “Get some sleep, Nero,” he said, though I was pretty sure Nero was way ahead of his father. 

All the softness and anxiety were gone from Vergil’s eyes when they turned on me. “If you ever so much as say the word 'strawberry' around him ever again, I will remove your tongue. He will not eat them, he will not see them, and he will not think about them. Got it?”

Trying to reason with him would have been pointless, so I raised my hands in surrender. “Yeah-yeah, I got it, but you know you can make a sundae with other stuff, right? You can make him one with whatever he likes at home."

Vergil looked like he wanted to snap at me, but he seemed to remember how happy Nero had been before things turned dire, and he paused. The threatening air eased from his stance. “He… he probably would like that. I suppose we could go to the store after this. I’m sure he’ll be hungry.” 

I flashed a grin. “I’ll help make you a list.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my favorite stupid headcanon, and I will not stop with it.


End file.
